A Stranger Grabbed My Wrist on a Dark Street – His Next Sentence Made My Knees Buckle

She’s a sweet girl who hugs her stuffed bunny as if it’s her heartbeat.

She’s the kid who says “thank you” without being told and hums little songs while drawing with crayons.

My Lily is pure and deserves more than a mom who’s constantly running on fumes.

I rely on my neighbor, Marisol, more than I care to admit.

She’s in her late 50s, kind-faced, with a practical kind of warmth that’s reassuring. She watches Lily when I can’t, which is often.

I’m always apologizing when I drop her off, promising to be back by 8:00 p.m., but 9:30 or 10:00 p.m. rolls around before I slip into my apartment like a ghost.

We live in one of those neighborhoods where gentrification didn’t finish its sentence.

There’s a fancy smoothie place at one end of the street and a pawnshop with boarded windows at the other.

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